


where does the good go

by seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Awesome Michelle Jones, Awesome Pepper Potts, Existential Angst, Family Fluff, Fluff, Teen Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), it's what they deserve, literally just almost 4k of ladies supporting ladies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Morgan sighed, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom.She was being ridiculous, knowing that she was being entirely too frustrated over an assignment that wasn’t all that difficult to begin with.But her father had graduated MIT when he was her age, Peter had already been a superhero for over a year when he was fifteen.Morgan walked back over to the bed, flopping back down on her back and stared at the ceiling again.She may have had all the time in the world to figure out what she wanted to do, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she was already running behind.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Michelle Jones & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Pepper Potts & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 88





	where does the good go

**Author's Note:**

> Happy International Women's Day!
> 
> What better day to write nearly 4k of ladies supporting ladies then today???? 
> 
> Special thanks to the anon that originally inspired this!!!!
> 
> :)

Morgan sighed, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom.

She was being ridiculous, knowing that she was being entirely too frustrated over an assignment that wasn’t all that difficult to begin with.

Mr. Martinez had been clear that it was supposed to be a simple assignment, a creative exercise in articulating their dreams for the future - knowing as well as Morgan did that the rest of the kids in her class would take this kind of project way too seriously.

Her fingers drummed against her stomach, right leg jiggling restlessly against the comforter as she sighed again.

It was an _English_ paper of all things, one of the few subjects that came naturally to her and with one of the few teachers that didn’t look at her like they expected greatness but just looked at her as a person.

It shouldn’t be this difficult, Morgan reasoned that she could easily bullshit her way through three pages of nonsense if she wanted to.

But she didn’t want to - not for a teacher as nice and as good as Mr. Martinez, not when the assignment itself hit at something that Morgan was so unsure of.

She _didn’t_ know what she wanted to do when she ‘grew up’, the idea of having anymore pressure - real or imagined - on her already precarious sense of existence further setting her off on a spiral that Morgan wasn’t sure she could get out of.

To avoid it again, she jiggles her leg once more before hopping off the bed - pacing around her room as she taps her fingers against her leg. 

This was stupid, she was overthinking this completely - knowing that Mr. Martinez didn’t have the same expectations that any of her other teachers had for her, that of any of the annoyingly nice people she’d ever had to teach her that he was the one who wouldn’t be disappointed when she didn’t reach whatever imaginary threshold they’d had over her. 

Morgan wasn’t ungrateful, abundantly aware of the privilege that she had to go to a fancy private school, that she never had to worry about where her next meal was coming from or have to ever worry about paying for college like some of her friends on scholarship always talked about. 

Morgan had a different problem, an existential one - more annoyed at the fact that she had a problem in the first place when she knew objectively it wasn’t a problem at all. 

Yet the burn of anxiety in her stomach rolled around over and over, Morgan’s entire being feeling antsy as she tried to wrestle with how exactly she could articulate what it is that she wanted to do in the future when she didn’t even know who she was _now_. 

She was Morgan Hope Stark - named for the very thing she was supposed to bring. Her father had saved the universe, her mother a world-renowned CEO, her life and her future was filled with nothing but good things. 

She had a family that loved her, patchwork and messy like all families were - she’d never had to want for anything, never had to worry that if she ever had a dream for what it is that she wanted to do, that she wouldn’t be able to accomplish it. 

But that was just the thing, Morgan thought as she sighed again - continuing to pace in her bedroom, groaning in frustration.

She didn’t _know_ what she wanted to accomplish, unsure of what it was that she could even _begin_ to think of how she could help contribute something to the world when her parents were a constant reminder that anything Morgan could even think to do - it would never measure up.

Morgan was self-aware enough to recognize that the pressure she was placing was completely on herself, neither of them pushing her to be anything other than what she was - telling her time and time again that she could figure out what she wanted to do in her own time. 

But her father had graduated MIT when he was her age, Peter had already been a superhero for over a year when he was fifteen.

Morgan walked back over to the bed, flopping back down on her back and stared at the ceiling again.

She may have had all the time in the world to figure out what she wanted to do, had a few weeks before the assignment was even due - but she couldn’t help but feel as if she was already running behind. 

* * *

“You good, small fry?”

“Hmm?” Morgan turns, only to get hit flat in the face with a french fry, making a face as she glares at Michelle before saying, “Hey.”

Michelle shrugged, picking up a french fry from her own plate and taking a bite, “Asked you three times how you were doing, figured you needed a little encouragement to bring you back to the present.”

“I thought you hated food waste.” Morgan asks, grabbing the errant fry and popping it into her mouth.

“Not a waste,” Michelle says, pointing a fry towards Morgan, “you just ate it. Now spill,” she brings the fry to her mouth, tilting her head, “what’s going on with you?”

Morgan chews for a moment before swallowing, opening her mouth before Michelle stops her with saying, “And before you think about trying to tell me it’s nothing, remember that I live with Peter and have a bullshit radar that’s never wrong.”

Morgan shuts her mouth at that, Michelle smirking at her as she raises an eyebrow. 

“You wanna try again?”

Morgan sighs, shoulders slumping as she brings her head in her hands - bracing herself against the table. “Did you always know you wanted to be a journalist?”

Michelle studies her for a second before smirking again, shaking her head as she took a sip of her drink. “Nope, when I was your age I had no idea what the hell I wanted to do.”

“You’re kidding,” Morgan says, Michelle shrugging again as she put her drink down, “but Peter said you were really intimidating when you were in high school.”

“He’s right, I was. Absolutely terrifying and don’t you forget it,” Michelle says, winking before her face changes, her eyes shifting elsewhere as she says, “but it wasn’t because I was sure of anything.”

Michelle’s gaze shifts back to Morgan as she smiles, “No one ever really knows what they’re doing, Mo. I certainly didn’t, not at fifteen.”

She laughs, “God, not even at thirty. Adulthood’s a scam, don’t do it.”

Morgan rolls her eyes, lifting her head out of her hands before saying, “I mean it, MJ. How did you know that this is what you wanted to do?”

Michelle seems to consider that for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows as she looks back at Morgan. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Morgan shrugs, seeing the way Michelle’s eyes narrow as she says, “not for like, anything important anyway.”

Michelle looks at her like she doesn’t believe her before twisting her lips, fingers dancing around the cup in her hand. It’s quiet while she thinks, Morgan’s leg starting to bounce up and down again as she takes her in.

She feels like she’s known Michelle her whole life, though in one sense she had - being just as part of her growing up as Peter did - save for the awkward year they’d broken up after her and Peter had graduated college, remembering vividly wanting to hang out with her without hurting him and being glad when they finally made up.

Michelle was smart and wildly funny, fond memories of Michelle and her dad sparring back and forth last Christmas coming to mind. She was glad that they were together now, seemingly for good - the wedding ring that Peter had created reflecting the light off the cup she was fiddling with now. 

Morgan hadn’t really ever considered the idea of having siblings growing up, not when she had Peter and Michelle. 

“I think,” Michelle begins, bringing Morgan out of her thoughts, “I just kind of… fell into it.”

Morgan makes a face. “That’s not an answer.”

Michelle cracks a smile, shrugging again. “It’s the best I got, kid. I thought about art school for the longest time or maybe going into law but…” she trails off, glancing out towards the busy street outside of the diner they were in. 

“I don’t know,” she finally says, bringing her attention back to Morgan, “I took some classes in college that I really liked and then got to intern with your mom for a semester that was really cool. But I don’t know, I guess I just really liked the idea of getting to tell the stories that mattered, making sure people who don’t feel like they have a voice actually get heard.” 

Morgan smiles at that, as Michelle tilts her head. “You sure there’s nothing going on?”

Morgan’s quick to refute it, already seeing the gears in Michelle’s head spinning behind her eyes as she shakes her head. 

“Yeah, yeah, just curious.”

Morgan takes a sip of her own drink, ignoring Michelle’s stare and the sinking feeling in her gut.

For as much as Michelle had said that she didn’t know she had wanted to do journalism, that from everything that she and Peter had told her growing up - Michelle had already had the passion for helping the disadvantaged, even if she hadn’t had known how. 

Morgan had all the tools the world - the whole universe - had to offer her. 

But she still had no idea what she wanted to do.

* * *

“Hey May,” Morgan says over the phone, “happy birthday!”

“Thank you sweetheart,” she hears May’s voice ring out, smiling into the phone as Morgan asks, “How’s the vacation?” 

“Good, you know how Happy gets when he’s out in the sun for too long.” 

Morgan laughs at that, the memory of last summer and how Happy had turned as red as a lobster the last time they’d gone to the beach. She knew he hated traveling more than what was absolutely necessary but obliged for May. 

“I didn’t want to keep you, just wanted to say happy birthday.” Morgan says, holding the phone in her hand as she looks up at the ceiling of her room once more. 

May’s quiet for a second, Morgan wondering if the place she was in had great service even if StarkPhones were reliable as anything else that her father had ever created when May’s voice finally rings out, hearing the twinge of concern.

“You doing okay, Mo? You sound…” May trails off before laughing, “Well, you sound a little like Peter.”

Morgan smiles, conflicting emotions running through her at May’s words. If Michelle was like the sister she’d never had, May was like her second mom - a warm and comforting presence that she’d appreciated having in her life just as much as she loved her Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy. 

The comparison to Peter didn’t bother as much as it used to when she was younger, the adults in her life going above and beyond to try and make her feel just as wanted and as loved as the person that Morgan was intimately aware that her father had loved as a child long before she’d ever been born. 

But just as her father’s existence as the savior of the universe was a fact she could never get away from, new tributes popping up every few years on the anniversary of the blip - Peter was the golden child in everything but in name, so inherently _good_ that if Morgan was a more jealous person, she would resent him.

She couldn’t, just as she couldn’t really resent May’s questioning - May knowing her just as well as her own parents did, but being infinitely easier to talk to.

“I’m fine, May. I’m just… just kind of worrying about nothing honestly.” Morgan smirks, rolling her eyes. “Which yeah, I know is just like Peter.”

May’s laughter is light, a sound that fills up the room as Morgan smiles before she asks, “You want to talk about it?” 

Morgan thinks about it for a second, honestly debating it. 

She loved her parents, they were great - as far as parents went. But May had always been a lighthouse to talk to, to have the kind of parental wisdom and grace that she didn’t expect from Michelle but without the _actual_ pressure of having to reveal whatever it is she was feeling to her actual parents. 

But it was silly, her existential crisis - something that Morgan knows May wouldn’t consider a burden to walk through yet still didn’t want to talk about during what should be a relaxing birthday vacation. 

She’d even considered asking Peter about what she was feeling, knowing he’d be more than eager to talk it out with her. 

But Peter - unlike Michelle or May - would tell her dad, a conversation that she didn’t want to have, already anticipating that he would make it so much more of an issue than what it actually was. 

May was a safe bet, someone she knew could trust. But Morgan didn’t want to burden her with something that really wasn’t that big of a deal - especially considering the life and death problems Peter usually talked to her about. 

“No, I’m-- I’m good. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

May hums, Morgan wondering if she was going to press it only to hear a familiar voice murmuring on the other end, grinning as she says, “Is that Happy?”

“It is,” May laughs again, imagining her shaking her head as she said, “I better go make sure he’s alright.”

Morgan smiles, ready to say her goodbyes before May says, “But I mean it, kiddo. Call me later, if you want to talk. You know I’m always here for you.”

Morgan chews the inside of her cheek, immediately thankful and shamed that she was pushing off the kindness that was being offered to her so generously when she says, “I know, May.”

May says something else but Morgan doesn’t hear it, her mind running in circles - knowing she was making something out of nothing.

She had a loving family, people who cared about her - a high school paper shouldn’t be stressing her out so much, not when Morgan _knew_ that she had plenty of people to talk this out with.

Morgan doesn’t, saying her goodbyes to May before staring up at the ceiling again - feeling guilty at the idea that for all the love that she had around her, she couldn’t figure out how to channel that love into telling the people that loved her that she had no idea who she was. 

* * *

Morgan should’ve guessed that it would only be a matter of time before either of her parents found out that she was having a crisis, the two of them being walking representations of helicopter parents. 

She knew it wasn’t without warning - not just because of the blip and the normal dangers that their messed up world they seemed to live in but the fact that she was Morgan _Stark_ , not a day in her life that there wasn’t a risk of a kidnapping from some idiot with a god complex. 

Her father had quite literally invented time travel for the chance to bring one of his children back, Morgan should’ve guessed that her own emotional problems wouldn’t go unnoticed for long. 

What does surprise her is that he isn’t the one to confront her, ignoring their questions at the dinner table before sulking off to her room again - curled up in the blanket that Uncle Rhodey had stitched together from all of her father’s old MIT sweatshirts, save for the ratty one that Peter refused to ever give up.

When the door creaks open, she expects her father’s heavy footsteps and a sarcastic quip - taken aback instead when she hears her mother’s quiet voice ring out, “You doing okay?”

Morgan’s head snaps up to face her, her long white hair pulled back in a low bun. Morgan chews the inside of her cheek, feeling tears that she can’t explain starting to form in her eyes - her mother’s face falling as she closes the door behind her and walks up to the bed, sitting across from her as she brings a hand up to her face. 

“What’s going on kiddo?” She asks, brushing her thumb across her cheek as Morgan sighs, feeling ridiculous as she shakes her head. 

“Nothing. _Nothing’s_ wrong. I’m just--” Morgan shrugs, “I don’t know.” 

“Was it because we talked about college? You know your dad’s just joking, you can go anywhere you want to.”

Morgan quickly shakes her head. “It’s not that,” she smirks, “though I don’t know about that. He still whines that Peter chose to go to Columbia.”

Pepper smiles at that, eyes searching her face before saying, “He’s fine, just like he’ll get over it and be supportive for wherever it is that you want to go.”

Morgan’s face falls at that, Pepper immediately catching the change in her expression when she says, “Unless there’s something more to it?”

Pepper ducks her head, leaning forward as she says, “Talk to me, kiddo.” 

“I--” Morgan begins, unsure of where to even start. 

She knew that her vague anxiety over what was really a small, silly assignment hadn’t gone unnoticed - that while neither Michelle nor May seemed like the type to “snitch” on her, that she hadn’t been nearly as talkative as she’d been her whole life. 

It was something about this stupid paper, something about the idea of having to coherently decide whatever it is that she wanted to do with the rest of her life for a _creative writing assignment_ that just zeroed in on all the insecurities that she’d ever had in her life - about who she was, about who she came from, about what she was expected to do. 

For all of her teachers’ praises about how wonderful she was, Morgan knew she wasn’t nearly as smart as her father or Peter were - struggling through the sciences in a way that she knew if she didn’t have tutoring available to her, she wouldn’t pass. 

No one in her life had ever placed the expectation that she would follow in her father’s footsteps but she didn’t have the drive to be what her mother was either - the idea of going into business and running SI being just as unappealing as what eating cauliflower had been like when she was little. 

Morgan wasn’t so completely self-deprecating that she didn’t know that her love for English wasn’t something that she could use as a skill but then she’d think of some of the kids in her class and realize that the problem wasn’t just that she wasn’t really passionate about anything - it’s that she wasn’t the _best_.

Morgan Hope Stark may have come from brilliance but _she_ wasn’t - feeling more average than anyone who lived the kind of extraordinary life that she did should ever feel. 

Pepper brings her out of her spiral by bringing a hand to her chin, lifting her head up as she says, “I don’t know, mom. It’s-- it’s just this stupid assignment in school for Mr. Martinez.”

Pepper frowns at that, bringing her hand down. “I thought you liked Mr. Martinez.”

“I do,” Morgan nods, “That’s not it, it’s--” she sighs, her shoulders sagging. “He wants us to write a paper about what we want to do in the future, like, a way for us to talk about our dreams or whatever.”

Pepper’s silent as Morgan twists her lip, fiddling with the blanket around her. “I don’t know what my dream _is_ though.”

“Morgan, sweetheart you’re _fifteen_.” Pepper smiles, softly laughing as she says, “You don’t have to know whatever it is that you want to do now.”

“But what if I don’t _ever_ know. I-- I can’t just… mess up you know?”

Pepper frowns at that, her face changing slightly as she asks, “What do you mean?”

Morgan regrets the slip, only to stare at her mother’s face - feeling a little more confident as she whispers, “I mean… the whole world wants to know what I’m gonna do someday you know? I’m _your_ kid. I’m a _Stark._ ” 

Morgan tries to smile but it falls flat, seeing the way Pepper’s expression falls - her eyes searching her face as she says, “I’m supposed to _be_ something important.”

Pepper’s hand reaches for her, gently placed on her knee as Morgan looks on as she says, “But you already _are_ something.”

“Mom--”

“I mean it, you _are_ something-- someone-- right now. Just as you are. And not just because you’re my daughter or _Tony Stark_ ’s daughter,” Pepper says with a laugh, Morgan silent as she continues, “You are someone important because you _are_ . Not for anything that you do or will have ever done. Just for being _you_.”

“But what if I don’t know who I am?” Morgan asks, clutching the blanket around her tighter - feeling so much younger than fifteen as Pepper smiles. 

“Sweetheart, no one ever really knows who they are. You think your father has any idea who he is at any given moment? Have you _met_ him?”

Morgan rolls her eyes. “Mom.”

Pepper laughs, a smile on her face as she says, “We’re all just trying to figure out what it is that we want to do and who we want to be, every single day. I was a small town girl from Iowa when I was your age, dreaming of doing…. _Something_.” 

Pepper’s attention shifts around to Morgan’s room, eyes dancing around the decorations and the clutter before looking back to her. “But I didn’t know what it was and certainly not at fifteen.”

Morgan tries to smile, knowing her mom is trying to make her feel better but still feeling unsettled, Pepper saying, “You’re gonna change your mind so many times in your life, Mo. About so many different things and in so many different ways.”

“I just wish I knew _what_ to change my mind about.” Morgan replies, seeing the kind smile on Pepper’s face.

“You will. It doesn’t happen all at once, sweetheart.” 

Pepper brushes some of her hair back, a motion that makes her feel young and small once again as she says, “Sometimes you gotta just take it one day at a time.”

* * *

Later, in the middle of the night - Morgan stares up the ceiling again, thinking about what her mother had said.

She knew she was right, her words were so similar to Michelle’s - remembering an off-hand comment from her father about how similar they were.

Morgan also knew that she didn’t have to figure out whatever it was alone, that May had meant it when she said that she would listen to her without judgement - her mother’s own quiet words of affirmation illustrating in the best way that Morgan had a whole army of people who supported her.

Despite all of this, she didn’t feel any more focused on what she wanted to do - have any clearer idea of what it was that she wanted to put down for a paper that shouldn’t have been nearly as stressful as she made it.

What Morgan did know, turning over in her bed as she burrowed herself deeper under the covers - is that maybe her mom was right in one sense, she didn’t have to figure it all out now.

She did have to figure out what she was going to write - Morgan remembering the paper deadline was coming up next week.

But even if she didn’t know what she was going to write, much less what she was going to do - Morgan at least let herself dwell on the reality of what her mom, May and MJ had said. 

She would figure it out, someday. And when she did - if she ever did - Morgan could be glad that she had a world of people surrounding her that could help her, every step of the way. 


End file.
